


Seasons of Love: Imbolc

by levele3



Series: Seasons of Love [2]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Mutual Pining, mild harassment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: It has been weeks since the incident in the forest and Marianne feels her husband has been keeping his distance just when it seemed they were finally starting to grow close.





	Seasons of Love: Imbolc

Marianne’s heart beat rapidly as she exited the gathering hall, moving as quickly as her short legs would take her. An echo of cheers followed her out. Once she was safe from the prying eyes of the clan, she stopped to catch her breath. Leaning against the cold stone wall helped bring her back to reality. _What had she been thinking_?

They had all been having such a good time, dancing and drinking, for tonight was Imbolc a time to celebrate the coming of spring. Marianne had even coaxed Bog, her husband and surly Clan leader into a dance. They had not even danced at their own wedding. As their time together increased, Marianne had felt she and her husband had grown closer. It was to the point where he had brought her along on a hunting trip. That’s when it changed again. Ever since the incident where Marianne had nearly frozen to death Bog had gone back to keeping his distance.  

Marianne’s almost calm heart speed up again as she heard footsteps approaching. _Was it Bog_? _Had he followed her_? She perked up as a shadow rounded the corner only for her heart to falter and her smile to fade to a snarl as a man who was not her husband came into view.

“What are you doing here Roland?” She asked. Marianne turned her nose up at him and stepped away from the wall so as not to feel so cornered. He had found her in a venerable position. 

The flickering light of the torches cast cruel shadows across his handsome face reminding Marianne of the villain he truly was. 

“Buttercup, there you are” Roland beamed at her, the dancing flames made it a hideous thing.

“I just wanted to check on you, after that _disgusting_ display,” he spat.

Marianne’s hand trembled but she held her chin high, she would not let Roland see how affected she was. In a moment of weakness, she had kissed Bog on the cheek in front of the whole clan.  It had earned her a rousing cheer from the clansmen. Some small part of her had also hoped that her husband would take the hint, that any advances by him would be welcomed. 

“I kissed my husband, Roland, last I checked that was not a crime,” Marianne huffed and turned to leave.

Roland’s arm sprung out, his palm hit the wall, blocking her path.   

“I know darling, _I know_. I just thought you might want to kiss a real man,” he lifted his brows at her.

A laugh escaped Marianne without her consent.  

Roland frowned.

“You cannot possibly be referring to yourself,” she said mirth still in her voice.

“How many more maids have you got with child, Roland? A real man would not take so many lovers, sire so many children he had no intention of being a father to.” Marianne scoffed, disgusted by him and tried to move around him again.

He blocked her again.

Frustrated, Marianne narrowed her eyes, her trembling hand closed into a fist.

“You want a kiss Sir Roland?” Marianne asked, affecting her voice to sound falsely sweet, “close your eyes.”

Roland smirked, satisfied at last he was getting what he wanted, _what he deserved_.

Marianne’s fist hit Roland’s chin with enough force it knocked him back, although he wasn’t expecting it. She stormed away from the alcove before he could regain his composure. 

“Do not approach me again,” she called back to him.

 ***

Bog was in a bit of a daze. His wife had just kissed him. On the cheek. In front of the clan. 

His fingers traced the spot her lips had brushed. He had never expected such an intimate gesture from her.

“ _Goodnight husband_ ” she had whispered in his ear, and then she had kissed him! 

A deep chuckle next to Bog’s ear pulled him from his thoughts.

“I think your wife wants you to follow her,” Brutus said, a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Bog shook his head in the negative and meant to protest but Brutus stopped him.

“I weasn’t born yesterday Bog, Ah saw tha way she looked at cha’. Yoo both looked so happy oot thar dancing. Follow yer wife to bed.” With that the large man sauntered away, back to his own wife.

Bog watched them for a moment with mild longing. Brutus made it look so easy as he wrapped one of his enormous arms around his wife. She smiled up at him, planting a kiss to his grizzly chin. Bog wasn’t meant for such tender moments. 

And yet, he found himself touching his cheek once more.

 _Had Marianne really looked at him, the way Belladonna was looking at Brutus_?

The clan had all gone back to their own revels, no one was looking at him.

Bog looked in his cup and drank the remainder of its contents. His heart felt light as he left the warmth of the great hall for the chilly corridors. He would know soon enough.

Bog was almost to their bedchamber when he saw movement in the hallway up ahead and thought it might be Marianne. He was about to call out when he realised the figure was staggering towards him. 

Bog sneered when he recognized the golden-haired head of Roland, one of Dadga’s men who had given him nothing but trouble. What was he doing so close to their rooms? 

Bog made to walk past him in the narrow hall, but noticed Roland’s lips were swollen, and he had a dangerous glint in his eye.

 “Your wife is one hell of a kisser,” Roland said, as Bog walked by.

Bog turned so fast Roland didn’t have time to react before he found himself back pressed to the wall and his feet dangling off the floor.

“What did you say?” Bog snarled.

“I mean, did you really think a beauty like Marianne could fall in love with a beast like you?” He goaded.

It hurt Bog more than it should of, to hear his own worst fears confirmed.  

Defeated Bog simply let Roland go, the coward ran down the hall, no doubt to find some other bed to spend the cold night in.

He opened the door to their chamber with more force than necessary. Marianne who stood in the middle of the room undressing jumped when the wooden door banged against the stone wall. She turned clutching her open dress to her chest, and fear flashed in her eyes, but then she relaxed. 

Bog stood in the open doorway mesmerized by the glow of the flames dancing on her bare shoulders. It reminded him of the night they spent in the cabin.

“Expecting someone else?” Bog asked sharply.

To her credit Marianne’s brow wrinkled in confusion, and still he found her beautiful.

“ _What_? No, of course not,” she said, but her voice held a tremor.

Bog held her gaze until she looked away from him in shame, “Roland, harassed me earlier in the hall, I feared he might have followed me.” 

Marianne studied Bog’s face, unable to know his thoughts from the mask he wore.

For a moment Bog thought he was about to get a confession to what he had long suspected. Her genuine distraught caught him off guard.

“Did he kiss you?” Bog asked seriously, remembering Roland’s swollen lips.

Marianne breathed in relief, it seemed her husband believed her, “he tried to,” she said coly, “but I punched him instead.” Marianne held up her fist playfully.  

Bog seemed to relax at that. His mind replayed the image of her fear when he opened the door, and how she relaxed when she knew it was him. Bog closed the door gently before approaching Marianne. She still stood frozen.

“May I help you with that?” he asked, nodding to her dress.

“Oh,” she said, surprised to find herself not yet ready for bed.

She let out a soft laugh then looked up into her husband’s eyes, “you may,” she said.  

After a few moments of silence that Bog found unbearable he spoke.

“I’ve never done this before,” he said.  

“Oh really, how then did I end up in a clean shift in the cabin?” Marianne teased.

They hadn’t really mentioned the cabin once they returned home. It had been a prized secret memory each of them could think on when they were alone. 

Bog was glad his wife could not see his face for it had erupted in a blossom of red.  

He stammered and stuttered, tripping over half-formed words until at last he spat out, “Ah couldn’t very well have let you die.”  

“Thank you,” Marianne said, quiet, ashamed she hadn’t said it sooner. 

“Yer welcome,” Bog said, cracking his neck.

Now that he had finished untying her dress, he didn’t know what do with his hands. He felt like an awkward shadow standing behind her.

“Bog,” Marianne asked, timid, “will you make me your wife?”

Bog blinked, confused at her words, “Marianne,” he said, and his voice cracked on her name, “You are mah wife?”

Marianne took a deep breath before turning around, she let her dress fall to the ground.   

***

Griselda had been so happy to see her boy up and dancing and generally having a good time. There was something about Marianne, Griselda just knew she was the one. She had ordered their bedchamber fireplace to be stacked full to make the room extra warm tonight. She had seen her son and his wife growing closer and tonight she had seen the way Marianne had looked at him.

She sighed, happy and content, there may yet be grandchildren for her. “ _Finally_!” she thought.


End file.
